Forlorn
by SilverMedals
Summary: It's all so charming until the lights are off, and so are your clothes. /or, Annie meets her first client


**Rated T with heavy implications of sex. Trigger warning for rape.**

Her hands shook as she slathered peach-scented lotion on her bare skin. This was her first job and she was in no position to screw it up. She'd already lost too much. She pushed a lock of hair out of her face and pulled a dress from her closet. It was the only thing they'd let her wear for this occasion: a lime-green dress that was inches too short.

She sucked her stomach in and zipped it up. It barely fit and the itchy fabric scratched her thighs. She wriggled in discomfort, squirming around. It was too tight, but she knew that rough fingers would pull at it in fourteen minutes.

She tightened her toes, squeezing them into her fluorescent pink pumps. She stood, wobbling in her stilts. She took a cautious step forward. She ruffled her dark hair with one hand and clutched her bag with the other. She pulled back her shoulders, pursing her lips. She swung the door open, taking a deep breath in.  
When she exhaled, she could feel her dignity falling away behind her.

His hair was a bright orange, like the flames in her fireplace back in Four. His skin was pale. He looked like a ridiculous flaming ghost. His nails were white, his eyes the same shade as his hair. He was at least a foot taller than her and probably twice as heavy.

"Welcome to chateau Romé." He closed the door behind her and smiled warmly. It seemed off. Everything in this house was ivory white. His voice was soothing, but Finnick had told her that the clients' voices were never soothing once you got past the pleasantries.

"It's- it's quite lovely," she stuttered, sliding her feet out of the tight shoes. She forced a smile onto her lips.

"Well, it better be. This is _the_ second-most expensive house in all of Panem, after all," he remarked. Romé stepped forward into the hallway and removed his purple scarf. Annie opened her mouth to say that it clashed with his hair, but clenched her lips again, swallowing all of her snarky comebacks. She couldn't push the anxiety out of her throat.

"Would you like a glass of wine?" he offered, opening a sleek white fridge. The wine, too, was orange. He poured himself a glass of it, sloshing it around in his thin glass.

"No, thank you," she said, seating herself on a bright-white barstool. She cleared her throat. "I, um, do like your coat. It's quite. . .flashy." She smiled, pretending she was at all interested in his fashion choices.

"Mm, thank you. I do like your dress. It's a lovely cut for you," he said. His eyebrows were raised.

Annie's cheeks flushed red. She realized how low on her bust the neckline hung and she pursed her lips, drawing a hand to her chest. She faked another smile. "Thank you. My stylist personally recommended it."

"You know, Annie, I've been looking forward to your visit for quite some time now. You always were my favorite."

She shuddered. "Me, too," she lied, straightening the tight skirt of her dress. It was coming. She could feel it. This was the moment Finnick described to her with tears in his eyes: when the client made desperate attempts to seduce you, to get him turned on and your clothes _off._

He smiled. Except it wasn't a smile. It was a smirk through-and-through. The first thing her mentor had taught her was the difference between the two.

"Won't you come to my bedroom?" Romé asked, his eyes bright. This one was a genuine smile, but devilish nonetheless.

"I-I'd love to," she mumbled, clenching her fists.

A moment later, the lights were off in his bedroom and the twilight shone dimly through the thin curtains. He sat on his bed, staring at her with a gleam in his eye. He patted the bed beside him, and she sat down, trying to keep her distance.

She was certain he couldn't see the panic in her eyes. They didn't _sparkle _in the dark like his did. His hand flitted from her shoulder to her waist to her thigh. She tightened. His fingers danced up to her back and gripped her zipper. Her breath caught in her throat. She didn't have the courage to say 'stop'.  
The zipper slid down without a hint of resistance. This was it. All those times she'd said she was saving herself for Finnick were moot, now. He pushed her shoulders until she lay flat on the bed beside him.

"Take off your dress now," he murmured, eying her like a wolf eyed a wounded deer. She pulled at it and it came off in a few seconds. Romé began removing his own clothing. Annie shook. She couldn't see anything but his face in the dark, but she felt his eyes studying every inch of her, and he seemed pleased.

His hand ran along her cheek, her neck, her arm, and her waist. She tensed under the cold touch of his fingertip. He traced his lips with his tongue, drinking in the sight of Annie cowering on the bed in front of him. "I always knew you were my favorite," he remarked, eyes fixated just below her collarbone.

She sat up abruptly. "No, I won't! I hate you! I hate all of this!" she exclaimed. She tried to sound brave and enraged, but her voice barely came out a squeak, and a cowardly one at that.

"Hate? Awful strong word for such a weak little girl," he growled, crawling forward. He shoved her back on the bed, his eyes looking at her angrily. She covered as much of her body as she could with her hands.

He pulled her hands away from her chest and pinned them to her sides. She was surprised how smooth they were. It must have come from years of proper moisturizing. _Or__ huge amounts of money._

This was just like Finnick had described, but Finnick was stronger than her, and Finnick was supposed to be rough with his clients. Annie's clients were to be rough with _her._

He knelt over her, staring into her eyes. He resembled a tiger, but from her position, he was a thousand times larger. The next thing she knew, she was crying out in pain, trying to push him off of her. He growled and shoved her back down.

She had lost this battle.

Annie walked out an hour later, feeling forlorn and broken. But no longer did she feel afraid.


End file.
